


Unplanned

by Airyckah



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, dramione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 10:56:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 14,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9231785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Airyckah/pseuds/Airyckah
Summary: In which Hermione and Draco discover that sometimes the things that make life worthwhile, are the things that are unplanned.





	1. June 2007

**June 2007**

“For fuck’s sake, Granger, didn’t your mother ever teach how to properly pour a cup of tea?” Draco snapped, his grey eyes narrowing at the bushy haired girl who was sitting across from him. Hermione’s response, of course, was to roll her eyes as she shoved the china, now steaming, towards the young man.

“If you don’t like the way I pour, Malfoy, maybe you should go annoy someone else during tea time. You certainly wouldn’t be missed.” 

She pulled her own cup closer to herself from across the desk, leaving it on her desk as she leaned back into her chair, crossing her legs. She didn’t attempt to hide her annoyance, glaring back at him with the fury of a valkyrie.

“Yes, well,” he started, pausing to press the fine, floral printed china that had once belonged to Hermione’s grandmother to his lips, “This may come as some surprise to you, but yours is the only worthwhile company in this entire building.”

Rolling her eyes in response, Hermione leaned forward again, reaching for her own cup and lifted it to her lips. When she blew gently on the steaming liquid in lieu of taking a sip, Draco Malfoy stared at her with wide eyes.

“What?” she snapped, frowning. “Circe’s sake, Malfoy, why are you staring at me like I just sprouted a second head?”

“You don’t blow on tea, Granger! Salazar, your mother really didn’t teach you any manners, did she?” he said, his lips tight and thin in frustration. He reached across the desk and waved his hand over the cup, and the light cooling charm that he performed wandlessly had Hermione blinking.

“We can’t rely on magic for everything, Malfoy, you seem to forget. Sometimes it’s nice to not pull out my wand for every little thing - a little air does the same thing.”

“I  _ didn’t _ pull out my wand, now did I?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. The smirk that crossed his lips seemingly fueling Hermione’s annoyance, he leaned back into his own chair distracting himself with fixing his far-too-expensive cufflinks.

Hermione sputtered back at him, her mind reeling with all the nasty things she wanted to blurt out, but instead she pulled her lips tight for a moment, swallowing the words. After seconds of silence, she opened her mouth again, this time her voice slightly calmer that at any point during their whole exchange.

“I just don’t understand how you can expect me to be okay with naming our son  _ Scorpius _ .”

Draco immediately rolled his eyes, sipping on his tea once again. “It is a good, strong name. You know full well the Black tradition with star and constellation names - the lot of them may have been utterly mad, but my mother is still a Black, and I grew up knowing I would keep the tradition. What’s  _ wrong _ with Scorpius?”

“It’s just wrong! It just doesn’t sound right. What about Artemis? Godric, I could be convinced of Cepheus over  _ Scorpius _ .” Gone from her voice was the ire, all that remained was exasperation.

“Artemis is a god _ dess _ in mythology, Granger. It’s a  _ woman’s _ name. And Cepheus was the worst kind of coward, the kind that is willing to sacrifice his own family to save his own skin. Kind of the opposite of my philosophy, wouldn’t you say?” Draco spoke calmly, teacup still in hand.

“It might not be a bad thing to have a child completely opposite from you,” Hermione muttered under her breath. Then louder, “Alphard.”

First, Draco opened his mouth to speak, but then froze, thinking.

“Actually, Alphard may not be terrible. Alphard Black had some sense in him - he left half his estate to Sirius and the other half to Andromeda when he died - family was important to him. He didn’t believe in disowning your own.” Thoughtfully he turned his eyes back to Hermione. “Al, for short.”

“That could be confusing,” she sighed back, resting her chin in her hand, elbow on her desk. “Albus, after all.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Don’t let the Potter-Spawn affect your opinion - it’s Al or Scorp at this point.” He tipped his cup to Hermione.

Setting the china back down on the table, he stood. As he fixed his jacket, pulling sleeves back into place and adjusting the cufflinks to show from beneath the velvet again, he threw Hermione his trademark smirk over his shoulder.

“Back to the grind, I believe they say, Granger.” He paused, thoughtful, and his eyes met hers one last time. “Can’t believe I might have let you talk me out of Scorpius. I was pretty set on that, you know.”

After the door had clicked shut, Hermione leaned back into her chair again, running a hand over stomach.

“Well, Al, I’m glad I talked him out of that one,” she said in a soft voice, chuckling even. 

One thing Hermione was sure of, at this point in her life - after that one, drunken night, she had never even considered that co-parenting with Draco Malfoy was going to be easy, until today.

“Now I just have to convince him that Granger-Malfoy is more than an acceptable name for his child in this day and age.”


	2. November 2006

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hermione and Draco meet in an unexpected place.

**November 2006**

When Ron had walked out the door, Hermione had convinced herself it was okay. Better than okay; fantastic, even. Of course, since then, four hours had passed and Hermione now found herself alone, sitting at her kitchen table with a half-drank bottle of wine, wearing the dress she had planned on wearing to their dinner date. 

She looked down at the dress she had bought specifically for the occasion, and sighed as she brushed an orange cat hair from the skirt. She had been excited to wear the dress out - the luxurious feel of the emerald velvet made her feel wonderful - but she wasn't surprised to have Ron burst her bubble. 

“If you weren't a bloody celebrity people’d think I were going out with a Slytherin,” Ron had grumbled. 

Which of course had caused a fight to ensue.

When he had finally left, leaving behind her in the beautiful velvet, thigh-long dress she had been certain would keep his attention fully on her the entire night, she had sighed in relief.  _ Actually sighed in relief _ . She acknowledged - and accepted - that their tumultuous, on-again off-again relationship was at it’s final breaking point. Eight years of arguments, fights, shagging, family dinners and Ministry parties had all boiled down to her sitting at the kitchen table with a half-drank bottle of wine, in a green dress.

It was shortly after nine when she heard the Floo activate in the parlour, and she wasn’t surprised when she heard Ginny call through the house.

“You better still have on that damn dress, Hermione Granger.” The redhead came into view from around the corner, her smile wide as she found her friend in the aforementioned dress. “Perfect!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together, “You and I are going out!”

Ginny had seemed surprised by just how little convincing it took to get Hermione out of the house; less surprised, when Hermione stated she had one condition.

“Muggle pubs only. No wizards, no one we know, and  _ definitely _ no press.”

Which was easier said than done, apparently, because as Hermione picked up drink number I’ve-lost-count from the bar, she almost dropped the fruity, girly muggle drink when her dark eyes met bemused grey ones.

“Merlin - I must say, I never thought I’d be so inclined as to compliment you for just how much green is your colour, Granger.” 

Hermione could feel her heart sink into the pit of her stomach, the heavy beating drowning out the music from the club as she processed Draco Malfoy standing in a muggle pub. He shot her his trademark smirk, lifting a beverage to his lips with eyebrows raised, shoving his freehand into his pocket.

“The fuck are you doing here, Malfoy?” she finally snapped.

Draco seemed genuinely surprised by her response, pulling his hand from his pocket and motioning for her to keep it down. “Language, Granger. Since when do you curse so vulgarly? Weasel finally rub off on you, then?”

Hermione rolled her eyes, tipping her drink back and finishing it in one go, immediately needed more alcohol if she was going to be forced to talk to him. He still carried his amused grin, and when she lowered her glass he took it in his free hand.

“Come on, then, looks like you need another.”

Hermione wasn’t sure what in the world possessed her that caused her to follow him as he led her back towards the bar, but she did. A quick glance to her right saw Ginny coming back in her direction from the loo, and she glared at the redhead who froze at the other side of the bar. With a mischievous grin, Ginny waved back at her friend before turning towards the door.

She was going to be lucky to make it through the week, or so Hermione thought, her eyes narrowing as she continued to push her way through the crowd, the blonde man ahead of her.

When they reached the bar, Draco set both glasses on the counter, ordering two more. 

Hermione took the time while the bartender mixed the drinks to properly survey the young man in front of her. She was surprised to see how easily he blended in with everyone around them; he wore fitted blue jeans and a black button down shirt that he had the sleeves pulled up slightly on. As he handed the bartender bills from a leather wallet, however, she caught a glimpse of the Mark on his arm, and she went rigid.

What the  _ fuck _ was she doing?

He turned back to her, handing her the drink he had paid for, and his face fell slightly. “You see?” he said, “That right there. That is exactly why you have found me, Draco Malfoy, hiding away in a muggle pub.”

The words hit Hermione like a well aimed  _ bombarda _ ; she frowned, confused as he pushed past her, his feet carrying him as fast as they could while still trying to look casual, to a booth not far off the bar that was miraculously unoccupied. Sighing, she followed him, sliding in across from him.

“I’m sorry,” she said, genuinely. “I didn’t… I didn’t think about what it must be like for you.”

“Of course you didn’t, why would you?” he snapped. “Life is grand for you, isn’t it? War hero, successful Ministry official, likely on the road to marriage with another bloody hero. Why would you even think about an ex-Death Eater, some fool of a man?”

“My life isn’t all grand, I’ll have you know,” she told him. “I mean, I don’t think - I never thought…” She looked up from her drink, her eyes meeting his, and she reached across the table, placing her hand over his. “You’re not a fool, Malfoy. You were a poor, unfortunate boy whose father forced him into deep waters when he couldn’t swim.” 

Draco frowned at her, surprised at her words, looked down to where her hand sat over his own. 

“Also, nowhere close to running down the aisle, you prat. In fact, at this point in my life I’m closer to being the crazy kneazle lady.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As per usual, thank you all for the support. Leave 9 message and let me know what you think.


	3. December 2007

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alphard's first Christmas is a bit of a mishap.

**December 2007**

“You really don’t understand the concept of co-parenting, do you?” Hermione asked, her hands on her hips with a sour look on her face. She was looking down at Draco and Alphard, Draco waving his wand gently to keep the pop up mobile over the child spinning.

“The point,” he said, turning his attention to her as he continued to wave his wand haphazardly, “Is to raise a child together, _co_ -operatively.”

“Exactly. That means when I say that I am not comfortable with my child spending the holidays in the Manor, or in sodding _Lyon_ for his first Christmas with your bloody family, most of which I’ve never met, may I add, it means that I _am not comfortable with it_. _Cooperate_ with that, Draco.”

Draco’s wand hand froze as he cringed.

Peaceful interaction with Hermione had taught him one major thing; when she called him by his first name, he knew she was genuinely upset.

“Fine, okay, I get why you don’t want him to have holidays at the Manor,” he relented, reaching for the infant on the floor in front of him and standing. “I understand, I really do. There are a lot of horrible memories there that _I_ don’t want to relive, I can’t imagine what that must be like for you. But my mother is still Al’s grandmother, and as long as she is under house arrest the only way she will ever be able to meet her grandson is if you will allow me to take him there.”

Hermione adjusted her stance, moving her hands from her hips to crossing them over her chest. Al started to fuss in Draco’s arms.

“I’ll concede on Lyon,” he told her, starting to rock back and forth in the place that he stood. “I’ll give you that. And I hate to pull this card on you, but… If you could do anything in your power, wouldn’t it be to have your son meet your mother?” The way her face softened, he knew that he had struck a chord at last.

“Can you cooperate with that?”

He pulled out his best puppy dog eyes, offering her their squirming son. She reached out, taking Alphard into her arms, and instantly he calmed.

“Fine,” Hermione said finally. “Three hours on Christmas Eve. And if you want to see him on Christmas Day, you’re gonna have to suck it up and come to Harry’s.”

Surprisingly, Draco’s eyes lit up. “Deal!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “You won’t regret the compromise, Granger, I promise.”

**.oOo.**

Which of course meant Christmas was a disaster. Draco bought outlandish, impractical gifts for Alphard, and traded quips with Ron every chance he got until the redheaded man’s ears had turned so red Hermione was certain they were about to start steaming. He insulted Ginny’s baking and - albeit accidently - broke James’s favourite toy dragon. To be fair, however, he had spent the following two hours after _that_ incident dedicated to fixing the busted toy; in the end, successful.

To say she was surprised when he showed up at her house Christmas morning with bags of presents and even breakfast would be an understatement. She hadn’t _actually_ expected Draco to go to Harry’s for the holiday; she had actually honestly expected him to laugh in her face and call it happy with taking Alphard to see Narcissa the day before.

When she saw him sitting in a circle with Alphard laying in a bassinette at his side, whispering with James in a low voice after he had finally fixed the boy’s favourite dragon (a Chinese Fireball named Charlie), it would also have been an understatement to say she was impressed.

Draco had been determined to prove himself to Hermione time and again ever since she had told him what their one night stand had resulted in. She of course had been extremely reluctant at first, but his determination had proven impalpable to her. He jumped through every hoop, and Christmas had just been the latest in her testing of his limits.

She wished she could say she was disappointed he hadn’t failed, but the truth was she was glad. She wanted him to be able to have a relationship with his son, and on Christmas Day of all days, he had finally shown her just how far he was really willing to go to be able to have just that.

 


	4. December 2006

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hermione nearly throttles Draco, mainly because he can't deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? Two posts in one day? Honestly I just want to get AO3 and FF.net caught up to where I am on tumblr. As always, thanks for all the support, and feel free to leave a comment or join me on tumblr!

**December 2006**

As Hermione paced back and forth in her office, biting the nail on her thumb that she always defaulted to when she was stressed or nervous, Harry sat in her guest chair, fighting a bad case of the giggles that had come over him rather suddenly.

“Are you sure you don’t want tea, ‘Mione?” 

“Fuck tea,” she snapped back, her hair sparking, “I need a fucking bourbon, but that’s not going to happen any time soon, is it?

The renewal of his poorly fought giggle fit made her sigh in frustration. “Fine. Tea. Yes.” She stopped pacing suddenly, pointing a finger at Harry. “Herbal only, Harry. Can’t have caffeine when you’re pregnant, apparently.”

To his credit, Harry managed to summon and pour the tea without too much chuckling. All things considered, Hermione was surprised at how well he was taking the news - better than she was, in fact. 

She took the teacup he offered, moving back behind her desk, though not sitting. 

“And you’re sure-”

“Not just sure. Certain. There’s no one else, Harry. Ron and I - well, you know how things were towards the end. There wasn’t much room for that funny business.” Her tone dropped from high-strung to solemn, her eyes meeting Harry’s with a slight frown. “I need to tell him - right? It’s the proper thing to do, isn’t it?”

Harry raised his eyebrows at the question, sputtering. “Well, I mean - yes, in a moral sense. At the same time, ‘Mione, this is  _ your  _ body. This is something that is going to change  _ everything _ for you - you need to be sure about what you want to do. Me and Ginny will support you no matter what you decide.”

She sighed again, finally relaxed enough to take her chair. “I have thought about this. Hard, and long, and until I made myself over it. Fact is, I can’t justify anything other than this. That and, with my luck Draco Malfoy would be the only white-blonde, grey-eyed human in existence to carry those genes as dominant traits, and once this child is born it would be obvious.”

Harry nodded, and before he could speak again there was a knock at her door. 

“Miss Granger,” came her secretary’s voice, “Mr Malfoy is here to see you.”

Throwing Harry one last, almost desperate look, she stood. “Thank you, Mrs Norberry, you can send him in.”

Leave it to Draco Malfoy to walk in right when a bout of morning sickness came over her. He entered, finding her kneeled over the garbage can beside her desk, Harry dutifully holding her hair back. His reaction almost comical, he jumped up on the chair Harry had occupied only moments ago, cursing under his breath at the witch.

“Merlin Circe and Morgana, witch, I don’t want to catch whatever violent illness you’ve found yourself!”

It was Harry that snapped back, his green eyes narrowing on his childhood nemesis. “Shut up and sit down, Malfoy, Hermione’s not sick.”

“Could have fooled me,” he muttered back, stepping down from the chair. He brushed a footprint he was responsible for from the upholstery, settling into the chair as Hermione finally pulled herself from the floor, falling back into her own chair, clearly exhausted.

“Well I’m here - what was so important you felt the need to expose me to this contagion for?”

Hermione sighed. “It’s not a  _ contagion _ , Malfoy. This isn’t something you just bloody catch.  _ I’m fucking pregnant _ .”


	5. September 2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which James is seen off to Hogwart's for the first time.

**September 2015**

“Muuuuum. Mum! Muuuum why do we have to go to the train station just to see James off if I’m not allowed to go to Hogwart’s?”

Alphard’s voice carried up the stairs, and Hermione sighed, calling back down to him. “He’s more nervous than he lets on, love, and Uncle Harry thought it would be nice to have us all see him off.” She walked out into the hall, looking down the stairs at the blonde-haired, grey-eyed boy who sat at the bottom of the stairs, rolling his eyes.

Because just as she had predicted, of course Draco Malfoy’s son would be a spitting image of him.

“Is Dad coming?”

“No. He and your sister are going to meet us the your aunt and uncle’s for lunch.”

“Fine,” he huffed, crossing his arms and leaning back on the stairs. “I’m glad he doesn’t make me go to Nana’s anymore, that house creeps me out.”

Hermione rolled her own eyes, turning back into her room to finish getting ready. “Yes, lucky for you your grandmother can leave the estate finally to see her grandson.”

It had been years since she had been to King’s Cross Station, and as she passed through the barrier between platforms 9 and 10, she felt nostalgia biting at her. Appearing on the other side, she adjusted her grip on Alphard, releasing his hand and instead wrapping her arm across his shoulders.

“Mum! I can see Aunt Ginny over there!” he said, pointing down the platform, and Hermione let him lead the way through the crowd. When a flash of light temporarily disoriented her, she pulled Alphard tighter against her side, scowling.

“Fucking press,” she breathed as they approached Ginny and Harry.

“Language, mum,” Alphard giggled, brushing her arm off and running over to where Albus was standing, looking less than impressed that his brother was leaving for Hogwart’s without him.

Sighing, Hermione greeted Harry and Ginny, giving each a small hug before turning her attention to James, who was standing between the two with an owl cage in hand. “I cannot believe you’re old enough to be going off to school,” she said, smiling, and she reached forward to try and flatten his mop of raven hair.

“Aunt ‘ _Mione,_ it’s _supposed_ to be that way,” he told her, setting the owl cage down and immediately attempting to muss up his hair again.

As all the adults laughed, Hermione leaned forward, whispering in the boy’s ear, “Don’t get yourself into trouble, James,” she said, her voice low, “But if you’re looking, make sure you’ve got your dad’s cloak, because I will be quite disappointed in you if you manage to get detention right away.”

She winked at him as she straightened herself out, and James giggled, right as the train whistle blew.

“You better get going,” Harry told his son, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“No Ron?” Hermione asked Ginny, and Ginny shook her head.

“I meant to owl you this morning - Susan went into labour late last night, so he won’t be along probably at all today - Harry and I are going to go to the hospital this afternoon after lunch.”

Hermione’s eyes widened, excitement taking over. “Oh, I’m so happy for them!”

Both women turned their attention back to the train, where James was starting to board. “Lily, love, go to Auntie so I can see your brother off,” she told the small red haired girl with a pat on the shoulder. Lily reached out to Hermione, who pulled her into her arms with a smile so Ginny could see her son off.

After the train had left, the three adults and the three children that had been left behind made their way back through the barrier and to the front of the station, where a town car was waiting to take them back to the Potter’s.

When Draco showed up an hour later with a small, curly haired, blonde girl clinging to him, Hermione made her way over.

“Aweh, Lyra, my love, mummy is so happy to see you!” she exclaimed, pulling the girl into her arms. “Did you have fun with your Nan, my love?” Lyra nodded, a small smile creeping across her face as she wound her arms around her mother’s neck.

“Nan needs to learn to keep her bloody mouth shut,” Draco muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for Hermione to hear.

“What did she say?” Hermione asked, frowning. She put Lyra down, directing her to Lily across the parlour.

Draco still kept his voice down, even though his daughter was likely out of earshot.

“She just keeps getting Lyra worked up about how unconventional her family is. How _inappropriate_ it is that her parents not only _aren’t_ together, but _never were_ together.” He sighed. “I know you didn’t purposely charm mum into utterly _adoring_ you, and if it was just _me_ she voiced these opinions to, I wouldn’t really care. But to get the kids worked up over it just pisses me off.”

Hermione laughed, and put a hand on his shoulder. “Narcissa really does adore me, doesn’t she?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! All caught up to where Tumblr was. Posting schedule might slow down a bit now, but I have an army of chapters already written, I just want to space it out a bit. Hope you enjoyed!


	6. June 2010

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Pansy is not quite as much of a comfort as she thinks she is.

**June 2010**

Hermione could feel nausea start to set in as she sat on the edge of the bathtub, staring at her wand that was giving off a pulsing green light at the tip. Pansy was sitting on the vanity, her high pitched laughter sounding far away to Hermione. Dazed was a strong enough word to describe her at that moment.

“I thought you and Draco weren’t shagging,” Pansy said, her laughter finally starting to die down. She straightened her back, adjusting her clothing to make sure she was prim and proper once again.

“We weren’t,” Hermione sighed, looking at her friend. “I mean - well, I have had sex with the man twice in my life.”

Pansy’s laughter, which had subsided, started up again. “Well, no one can ever say he is shooting blanks,” she said, causing Hermione’s eyes to narrow.

“Merlin, Pans, tell Harry he needs to stop teaching you and Gin muggle expressions,” she said, exasperated. “Albeit you’re not wrong,” she added, much more quiet. She stood then, straightening her skirt, and moving closer to where Pansy was perched on the vanity to wash her hands in the sink.

“What’re you gonna do?” she asked, genuinely.

Hermione looked up, and stared at herself in the mirror for a moment. Then her eyes met Pansy’s through their reflections, and she smiled. “Birth another blonde-haired, grey-eyed baby,” she told her friend.

**.oOo.**

Draco’s reaction was, in Harry’s words, _priceless_. After his initial shock, the duration of which lasted twenty minutes and had him asking Hermione, “are you serious?” the entire time in varying tones, he proceeded to _thank_ Hermione.

“You don’t need to bloody _thank_ me, Draco, you’re at least 75 per cent responsible,” she told him, sipping at her tea. He grinned back.

“75? Puh- _lease_ ,” he said with a roll of his eyes, causing Hermione to think, _Well at least I know where Al’s attitude has been coming from._

“ _Anyway_ ,” Hermione enunciated carefully, “I just wanted to say, before things get all crazy… that I do think you’re a wonderful father, Draco. And as critical and skeptical as I was when we first found ourselves in this situation - as I am sure you also were, for the record - but looking back at the last few years, I must say that of all the people I could have been forced to raise a child, or child _ren_ with, I’m kind of glad it was you.”

He beamed back at her. “For what it’s worth, the sentiment is mutual,” he told her. Then, “Potter! Did you hear that? Put your public face on, we’re going for a celebratory round at the Leaky!”

Five years before, the idea of Harry and Draco even simply being civil to each would have made everyone involved laugh until they cried. Hermione and Pansy, _friends_? Never in a million years. Yet here they all were.

Harry joined Hermione and Draco in the parlour from the kitchen, followed closely by Ginny. The men shook hands, Draco looking an interesting combination of surprised, excited, and frazzled, and he suddenly turned to Hermione.

“Wait - why did you bring me to the Potters’ to tell me?” he asked, frowning.

“Honestly? I didn't know what to expect, considering your reaction last time,” she confessed with a blush, and Draco’s frown deepened.

“What? I didn't react inappropriately!”

“No,” she admitted, “Not inappropriately. Just… poorly.” When he still looked confused, she sighed. “Draco, you asked me repeatedly if you were at risk for catching whatever _contagion_ I had, and when I finally told you I was pregnant, you told me you wouldn't believe it until, and I quote, ‘I pushed out a child with a full head of hair as blonde as yours.’”

Hermione could hear Ginny snort from behind her as Draco stuttered incredulously..

“What?” she yelled, as everyone turned their attention to her, “That is exactly something the git would say, it's hilariously accurate. He can't even deny it.”


	7. November 2006

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hermione and Draco discuss what the hell he is doing in a Muggle pub.

**November 2006**

Hermione was still angry that Ginny had left the pub, leaving her with Draco Malfoy of all people in the middle of muggle London, but she couldn’t deny that she was actually enjoying his company for once in her life.

Working at the Ministry she had been forced, on numerous occasions, to interact with him. He was, as she once would have despised to admit, a hard working civil servant, and had managed to make a successful career for himself despite how many of the Wizarding community behaved around and towards him. His position in the Muggle Liaison Office - a path that had surprised Hermione - meant they had developed some form of working relationship over the years, though they had never spent any social time whatsoever together. Even at after-hours Ministry functions they didn’t interact more than they had to.

“No one knows me, out here. No one knows the things I’ve done - the things I was forced to do. No one looks at with disgust or runs away screaming if I forget to wear long sleeves. I’m not the Big Bad Death Eater coming to torment anyone,” he admitted. Hermione nodded solemnly. 

Of course she understood the desire for anonymity. She wouldn’t say so, however, because her face wasn’t related to pain or fear, quite the opposite. She arguably had  _ good _ attention, particularly since she had managed to get Rita Skeeter removed from her position at the Daily Prophet, but the attention nonetheless made her considerably uncomfortable.

“For what it’s worth, Malfoy, I’ve been impressed with how well you have carried yourself. You’ve certainly taken the high road, ignoring the stares and comments - performing your job with precision and care, staying out of trouble.

He shrugged. “I guess I could have locked myself away in the Manor, lived off the family money and managed the estate, but… that fate would have been worse, I think.”

“You’ve managed to blend in quite well with muggles,” she told him, smiling, “I have to admit, I am quite impressed.”

Draco laughed then, and his laugh was genuine and light. “It took a while, let me tell you. Especially the currency. I couldn’t tell you how many times I accidently tipped waitresses far too much and had them hugging me and crying, thanking me.” Hermione giggled at that.

“I will concede, however, that it began as necessity. When I decided to apply for work at the Ministry, no one would take me except for Rhydian Neeson in the Muggle Liaison office. I took the job right away without thinking about the fact that I knew  _ nothing _ about muggles, as I am sure you’re aware. I really struggled for the first few months. 

“I’m pretty sure Rhydian only took me because he had a thing for my mother back in the day, but I was grateful. He kind of took me under his wing when he saw the rough time I was having - it was him who suggested I try going out into the muggle world, thought it might help my understand of our work. Of course he was right.”

Draco took a sip from his drink, his tone changing entirely when he spoke again. “Anyway, enough about my sad life, Granger. I’m far more curious about why exactly you think you are going to turn out to be a spinster with a house full of kneazles.”

“Yes, well…” Hermione started, shifting uncomfortably, “My mother always did tell me not to rely on my first love being my last.” She rolled her eyes at Draco’s smirk.

“Trouble in paradise with the Weasel, I presume?”

Hermione shook her head. “Never was paradise.” She sighed. “Ron and I… We’ve always been complicated. I think we felt like we owed each other something, after the war, and in particular I think we spent the last few years trying to make everyone else happy, forgetting about ourselves.”

Draco nodded his head, sympathetic. “At least you have a choice,” he muttered. When he saw Hermione’s confused frown, he sighed. “I was engaged. To Astoria Greengrass - her sister Daphne was in our year, in Slytherin. It was arranged - when we were both quite young. I always kind of rebelled against the idea of an arranged marriage, but it was what was expected of me, of a family in our standing.”

“Astoria Greengrass? I always thought - I mean, you and Pansy..?”

Draco chuckled. “Like I said - I rebelled. It didn’t end up mattering, anyway, because after the war, after my father was locked away in Azkaban, the Hyperion Greengrass pulled the contract. I don’t really blame him - he had done everything to keep his family neutral through the all the chaos, couldn’t have a stain on the tree after that. But Astoria and I - well, we’d managed to grow quite fond of each other by that time.” He scowled. “Fuck Granger, I thought I said I was done talking about me.”

The sudden crassness of his language made her giggle, and she tried to hide the sound by finishing her drink. He did the same, with his signature smirk.

“Well, Granger,” he said finally, setting his drink down on the table and glancing at his watch, “The hour is nigh’. Nearly last call. What’s it going to be, then, hm? My place, or yours?”


	8. July 2007

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hermione goes into labour, much to the discomfort of Harry.

**July 2007**

“Harry?”

“Hm?”

“I need you to do me a favour.”

“What’s that?”

“I need you to send Malfoy an owl.”

“Merlin, no. You can owl your soon-to-be-child’s father yourself.”

“Harry. I need you to send Malfoy an owl and tell him I’ve just gone into labour.”

The way Harry’s eyes widened was comical, and Hermione likely would have been killing herself laughing, if it wasn’t for the deep, low ache in her back and the uncomfortable wetness between her legs.

Considering the man had two children of his own, Hermione didn’t think he would go into quite the amount of panic as he did. Of course, both Albus and James had been born significantly overdue, and Hermione going into labour nearly two and a half weeks early may not have helped.

As he called out to Ginny, his voice two entire octaves higher than normal, Hermione grimaced.

“It’s really okay, Harry, don’t freak out. We aren’t in a rush, I just need someone to send Draco an owl so he knows to meet us at St Mungo’s.” She tried to stand, but Harry had to help her. With an arm around her back, Hermione grabbed the other, bracing against it for support as she pulled herself up. “I’m just gonna do a walk around the room while you do that, if you don’t mind. Oh, and would you mind sending Molly in on your way by? I need her to do a quick scourgify, I’m not supposed to use my magic once I’m in labour.”

The black-haired man nodded dutifully, rushing towards the kitchen of the Burrow.

The next few hours were, of course, hectic. Hermione waited as long as she could before heading to the hospital, knowing full well that childbirth was a long process. Harry and Ginny escorted into St Mungo’s and immediately she was fawned over by mediwitches and healers, all insistent on making certain she was as comfortable as possible - and it was in that moment that Hermione decided that being considered a war hero and being best friends with Harry Potter could definitely have it ups.

Draco had already been waiting for them at St Mungo’s, according to Ginny, but Hermione insisted he wait in the waiting room with Harry - there were some things she did not believe the father of her child was quite ready to see.

When it became clear close to midnight that the child was breech, the healer intervened with the midwife, performing a procedure that was essentially the magical form of a cesarean. 

Alphard Scorpius Granger-Malfoy was born at 12:03 A.M. on July 31st, 2007.

As Hermione lay in bed with the absolutely perfect child in her arms, kissing tufts of white-blonde hair, the midwife let Draco into the room.

“Leave it to you to hold off just long enough that my son has to share a birthday with the bloody saviour of Britain,” he quipped as he entered the room, his voice full of his usual snark, but the moment his eyes fell on the baby boy in Hermione’s arms, his face softened.

“Is that? - I mean, clearly it is, but…” he approached the bed slowly, kneeling as he came up at Hermione’s side.

“Draco, meet your son, Alphard Scorpius Granger-Malfoy,” she told him with a chuckle. Draco looked taken aback, and Hermione wasn’t sure if it was because she had still decided on incorporated his name choice in the end, or if it was from the hyphenated surname. The moment passed, however, and instead he looked at the baby boy in her arms. “Do you want to hold him?”

Draco nodded, slowly, and as Hermione placed the child in his arms, she showed him how to hold him so his head was supported, and Alphard looked up at his father with big eyes before settling in. 

“He has blue eyes.”

He sounded disappointed. Hermione laughed.

“Most babies have blue eyes when they’re born. They’ll change, I’d bet anything on it. He’ll be a spitting image of his father.”

Draco adjusted himself so he was sitting cross-legged on the floor, and Hermione watched with curious eyes. This was definitely an interesting side to the man - a side she had never seen before, a softer side she didn’t even know existed.

“Well fuck, Granger. We  _ made _ this.”


	9. May 2010

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hermione and Draco have a little heart to heart.

**May 2010**

It had started with one glass of champagne.

Hermione hated the Annual Memorial Gala that the Ministry and Hogwart’s put on in the school grounds. She hated going to the school every year on the second of May and she hated standing at the front of the Great Hall, posing for press photographs with the rest of Order and listening to families of the deceased talk about the sacrifices made during the war.

Most of all, she hated that every year they made her remember; mainly because she could never forget.

She still attended. Year after year she made her way to Hogwart’s, usually dressed in a lovely gown with her hair done up, posing for photographs and listening to stories. Some years were worse than others.

This was a particularly bad year.

There was no particular trigger for the bad years, but when it was one, Hermione tended to go a little overboard on the free wine. Couple that with the fact that she hadn’t drank a drop of alcohol since Alphard was born, and 2010 proved to be a _particularly_ bad year.

As slowly made her way out into the courtyard of the school to for some fresh air, she was drawn by the smell of Muggle tobacco to where Draco and Pansy stood, hidden behind a small shrub and sitting on the edge of the stone wall.

“I thought you quit?” she said, filling the empty spot beside Draco, who scoffed.

“I un-quit during particularly stressful moments,” he muttered.

“Adoration or hatred I could deal with,” Pansy snapped at the both of them, “It’s the pity I can’t stand.”

Hermione turned her head, staring across Draco at the dark haired girl. “Pity?” she asked, blinking in confusion.

“Well, yeah.” Pansy took a long drag from the cigarette before passing it back to Draco. “You’re the war heroine. Smart, successful - beautiful, now that you’ve started to give a shit about your appearance. Draco is the bad boy. Either loved or hated - loved for being raised by a bigoted and prejudiced family, forced to follow a madman who he betrayed, or hated for - well, being an ex-Death Eater. Take your pick. I, on the other hand, will always be that terrified, cowardly girl who was willing to turn over a much-loved classmate to said madman if it meant saving her arse.”

Hermione didn’t really know how to respond, so instead the three sat there in silence for a moment more. Draco had passed the cigarette back to Pansy, who had taken a small drag before passing it back again, sighing.

“Well. I’m gonna go back in. If nothing else I do _adore_ watching my designs walk around a party like this.” She stood, and without another glance in the others’ direction, she was gone, leaving Hermione and Draco alone.

After a moment more of silence, Hermione spoke. “So. Your mother was sure she was okay watching Alphard for the night? She wouldn’t have rather been out here, socialising?”

“No,” he told her, “I rather think she’d agree with me that she would prefer to be _anywhere_ but here.”

Hermione went to stand, stumbling a bit and catching herself on the edge of the cement wall. “Well I’m glad she can visit Alphard whenever she’d like, now. I appreciate her understanding that I would prefer neither myself nor my son step foot in the Manor if we don’t have to,” she admitted. She heard Draco’s sigh.

“Hermione - are you drunk?”

“Quite.” She giggled. “I’ve always impressed everyone with how articulate I am whilst inebriated, but I do get a little stumbly,” she told him. He laughed.

“Yes, that I do remember,” he told her with a small smile. As he stood he wrapped his fingers around her forearm, supporting her weight. “Shall I take you home?” he asked.

She nodded, leaning into him. “Probably for the best. This was a terrible night. Happens every couple of years - I drink myself a little silly. Haven’t even drank that much really tonight, I just haven’t drank at all since Alphard was born,” she ranted, letting Draco lead her back towards the main entrance of the school.

Once they were down the path and through the gate, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, turning on the spot and they were gone.

Draco had originally planned on dropping her off and heading home immediately, but when she asked him in for a nightcap, he found himself agreeing. He felt awkward, making his way through the house with her; he couldn’t recall a time that he ever been in her home, alone with her, without Alphard. When she poured them each a drink in mismatched glasses - _not_ crystal - he found himself grinning.

“I think I always forget how hard today must be for _other_ people,” she told him, lifting herself onto the kitchen counter, beside where he was leaning against the cupboard. “I mean, I don’t mean other people, I mean - ” She stuttered, paused, and took a deep breath. “What I mean is you and your mother also had a very terrible experience during the war, and in a way that was entirely different from anything me, or Harry, or Ron went through,” she said finally.

Draco turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting hers, and before she realised what she was doing, she had set her hand on his where it rested on the counter beside her.

“I just wish people could understand - the things I did, the person I was - that wasn’t _me_. That was the person I had to be to survive. Family is everything to me, and I did what I needed to protect my family, and as a _child._ ” Hermione nodded, her fingers tightening on his. “I never want our child to have to make decisions like I did, be forced to do things he doesn’t want to do, like I did.”

“I trust that,” Hermione breathed. “I trust _you_ , Draco.”


	10. July 2008

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which two birthdays are celebrated.

**July 2008**

“I _cannot_ believe my son shares a birthday with Harry bloody Potter,” Draco huffed. He was hunched over in a wooden picnic chair, his arms crossed over his chest.

“James,” Hermione said, not looking up from the book in her hand. When Draco scrunched up his nose in confusion, Hermione’s chuckle filled his ears. “Harry _James_ Potter, not Harry _bloody_ Potter,” she said in a prim voice. The roll of his eyes was nearly audible.

“Malfoy!” came the aforementioned man’s voice, and  both Draco and Hermione turned their attention to the raven-haired Harry who was lightly jogging towards them.

“It’s my birthday, and we are short a player for a pickup Quidditch game. Want to fill in for Gin as Seeker on the second team? I could use a trip down nostalgia lane to when I used to kick your arse back in school.”

Draco’s response was delayed, and Hermione found herself grinning at the clearly readable emotions passing over his face. Confusion, anger, annoyance - and finally, an expression that could only be described as purely _Draco_.

He stood with a smirk. “I think you took a few too many bludgers to the head, Potter, because _I_ was always kicking _your_ arse,” he said, pointing a finger into Harry’s chest. “Sure, I’ll join, just to prove once and for all how much you _suck_ , though.”

So of course what was meant to be a lighthearted, fun and quick game on a Thursday summer afternoon turned into four hours of yelling, ranting, and constant heckling. Molly finally pulled the pin on the game when Harry had caught sight of snitch and Draco and Bill had collided into each other mid-air as Draco had sped to gain on the other Seeker.

While Hermione applied a healthy dose of Dittany to the cut above Draco’s eyebrow, the two continued to bicker.

“ _Excuse me?_ You can’t say you’re the better Seeker _just because_ you saw the snitch first. _Puh-lease_. My reaction time was so on, I would have beat you to it if Bill hadn’t have learned to fly five minutes ago,” Draco snapped at Harry, arms waving and eyes narrowed.

“You just have to accept that I’m better than you, Malfoy!” Harry yelled back.

“AS IF!” Draco roared.

“Well! I guess we'll just have to play again so I can prove it once and for all!”

“I guess we will!”

“Next Saturday then!”

“I have plans with my mum!”

“Sunday then!”

“Sunday then!” Draco yelled back, throwing himself back in his chair. He blew a strand of hair out of his face from the opposite side of the wound, and Hermione looked over him at a very pregnant Ginny with a frown on her face.

“Did they just -?” she mouthed, and Ginny nodded.

“They just made plans for Quidditch,” Ginny mouthed back, equally shocked.

Just then, the muggle baby monitor that was on the grass beside Draco crackled into life, and Alphard’s waking cries could be heard over the radio.

“Al’s up from his nap,” Draco said cheerfully, standing once again. “I’ll get him.” And off he sauntered towards the Burrow with a surprising amount of spring in his step.

Hermione took his place in the chair, utter flabbergasted. “Did that just happen?” she asked Ginny, out loud this time. The redheaded woman nodded back at her.

“Merlin, it really just did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I've had the craziest week, but I wanted to get something out there.


	11. May 2016

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Harry and Pansy make a suprising discovery.

**May 2016**

“Please?”

Hermione looked over her glass of champagne at Pansy. The woman looking back, her hands clasped together in a begging manner, her eyes wide. Hermione shook her head again.

“Hermione, you haven’t been on a date in months. You need to start putting yourself out there. And Silas is absolutely  _ perfect _ for you. Neville and I met him at and academia conference in Japan hosted by Mahoutokoro. He was a teacher at Ilvermorny, in the States, and he just confirmed he is coming to take over History of Magic. He is here tonight, and you  _ absolutely _ have to meet him.”

Hermione continued to shake her head, a small smile crossing her lips. “Pans, I am so happy for you and Neville, I really am, but you being married does not mean you need to be pimping me out on dates with whatever single man you happen across.”

“Pimping?” Pansy asked, clearly confused.

“Never mind,” Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes. “The point is, I am perfectly fine.” Of course that’s when her eyes met Draco’s across the hall. She smiled into her glass when he winked at her before turning his attention back to the conversation he was in the middle of with Harry, Kingsley, and Theo Nott.

Pansy frowned at her friend.

“Wait a minute - Hermione! I know that look! You’re already seeing someone, aren’t you?” she asked, her voice raising in both volume and pitch out of excitement, both of which dropped when Hermione shushed her, cheeks red with embarrassment. “Oh Merlin, is it someone I know? Does he work at the Ministry? Is he  _ gorgeous? _ Is he - oh, no - Oh Salazar, is he married? Is that why you’re so embarrassed? Does he have a wife and you’re having some torrid love affair?”

“Merlin Morgana and Circe, Pans, you need to calm the fuck down,” Hermione said finally, grabbing her friend by the wrist. “I’m not having some bloody love affair!”

“Oh,” Pansy said, quietly, “Oh good.” There was far less excitement in her voice, however, and much more disappointment. 

“Jesus how the hell did you end up with Neville Longbottom?” Hermione chuckled, amused at how disappointed Pansy was at the lack of scandal.

“Oh, well, you see, he does this thing with silk rope and a riding - ”

“NOPE! Did not need to hear that!” Hermione said loudly, turning her head away from her friend, who was now giggling madly once again.

“Anyway. I mean, I guess if you are seeing someone, I can feel less bad about not introducing you to Silas, but honestly I feel like I should anyway. If you’re keeping this someone a secret, clearly it’s not going to go anywhere and you should have a backup plan, and that backup plan  _ absolutely can not  _ include ‘work drinks’ with Cormac bloody McLaggen.”

“Merlin, Pansy. It’s not a  _ secret _ , per se, we just wanna keep it quiet for a while. You know - no pressure. I’m nearly forty, I’m just trying to be practical about dating at this age. And can everyone  _ drop it  _ about Cormac?”

Pansy linked her arm through Hermione’s. “Really, ‘Mionne? Practical about dating? You’re so damn romantic.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, and as a floating tray of champagne glasses floated by, she set her empty glass on it and took another. “Come along,” she said, tugging on her friend’s arm, “Let’s go see what trouble Harry and Draco have found themselves in.” With a nod to where the men were standing, Hermione and Pansy could clearly see the two were clearly in a very heated argument. Although they seemed completely invested in their discussion, both were very much aware of their volume, trying to avoid eavesdroppers.

As Hermione and Pansy approached, Hermione could make out Harry’s harsh whisper, “I swear to Merlin, Malfoy, if it took you ten years to get yourself figured out and realise what a woman she was and you go and break her heart - ”

Hermione’s eyes widened as she realised exactly what they were discussing. She broke away from Pansy, grabbing Draco’s arm to get his attention.

“It’s back to Malfoy now, is it Potter?” Draco snapped back in a whisper-yell, but turned his attention to Hermione as he spoke. 

“For Godric’s sake, Draco, can you two take this outside, please?” she pleaded, her eyes meeting Harry’s. “I really don’t need anyone overhearing you two fight about this here, the absolute last thing any of us need is someone from the Prophet overhearing you and putting out a fucking headline.”

Pansy was frowning now, utterly confused. She opened her mouth to speak, but Hermione had already turned around, grabbing her by the arm as well and dragging her in the direction of the entrance to the Great Hall. Draco and Harry stalked behind, glaring at each other as they walked.

When they made it out into the courtyard, Hermione did a quick check to make sure they were alone before casting a Muffliato, and turned back to the arguing pair.

“Well?” she asked, crossing her arms over the chest, “Let’s get this over with then.”

Immediately, both Draco and Harry were talking over each other, much louder than before. 

“I swear to Godric, Malfoy -”

“None of your business -”

“Screw this up-”

“Father of her children -”

“Fucking git -”

“I love her!”

“ENOUGH!”

Hermione’s voice came out over top everyone else’s, her hair wild, and Pansy standing behind her, bewildered. “Enough of this! You two - I swear. You two have been friends for  _ years _ . Someone, over everything that happened when we were young, you’re  _ the best of friends. _ Draco, you’re the godfather of Harry’s daughter. Harry, Draco was the first person you owled when you were promoted to Head Auror. Don’t either of you  _ dare _ revert back to calling each other by your surnames.”

Hermione’s eyes blazing, she turned her full attention on Harry.

“Harry, we aren’t naive youth anymore. We are adults. Me and Draco are adults that have two children together. We aren’t blushing virgins going out on first dates, I’m not some damsel being chased by the big bad wolf, or whatever tainted opinion you have jumped to - we are able to make a decision like this ourselves. And if Draco and I have decided to explore our feelings for each other, and believe me when I say you don’t raise two children together without there being feelings, we are adult enough to make that decision.”

“Wait!” came Pansy’s shrill voice from behind Hermione, “ _ You and Draco? _ Draco is your mystery man? YOU AND DRACO ARE FINALLY TOGETHER?”


	12. September 2007

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a baby shower puts Hermione and Pansy face to face.

**September 2007**

“Really, Draco. I know we have come to a form of… _understanding_ with each other, but the one thing that I cannot grasp is how you expect me to be okay with Pansy _bloody_ Parkinson as the godmother to my child.”

“Posy,” Draco said with a smirk, and when Hermione stared back at him with utter confusion, “Pansy _Posy_ Parkinson, not _bloody_.”

Draco was fairly certain if there wasn’t a child in her arms she would have hexed his bollocks off.

“You’ve got to be _fucking_ kidding me. Her name is Pansy _Posy_ Parkinson?”

Draco shrugged. “Her mother’s name is Posy.”

“It’s obnoxious.”

“So is her mother.”

Draco sighed, standing from the floral upholstered chair he had occupied and fixed his jacket, his eyes twinkling. Hermione wished she could better appreciate how out of place he looked in her livingroom; his dark, clearly expensive apparel was a stark contrast to the vintage muggle furnishings of the room. As he made his way to the fireplace, he spoke again.

“I think Pans might surprise you,” he told her.

“Right,” she scoffed, “And you and Harry are going to be best friends forever.”

Draco glanced back at her with a roll of his eyes. “But really. You would be surprised to know how much the two of you have in common. Pansy is smart - excruciatingly so - she just didn’t need to be a swot about it, shove it down everyone’s throats,” he told her pointedly. “Although, I do believe that if you had been born to magical parents, that _ambition_ to prove yourself would have placed you right into the snake’s pit instead of the lion’s den.”

“Sorry,” she said, entirely unapologetic, “But I don’t think I’m nearly sly enough.”

“Anyway -” he said, his gaze pausing on a photograph of a young Hermione with her parents, “She used to always make these positively ridiculous revision schedules for herself, me, and Theo. Ridiculous of course because I am bloody brilliant and didn’t need to revise, and Theo is right sharp. I always thought it seemed like something you would do.”

“Revision schedules?” Hermione balked. “I never did such a thing.” If Draco hadn’t already known this was a lie, the way she blushed would have been a give away. He didn’t call her on it, however, just smiled.

“If there hadn’t have been - well, a war during our last year, I’m confident you two would have been neck and neck for the top of the class.”

“Draco - not that I’m judging, but… she’s a shopgirl.”

“That she is,” he said, smiling fondly. “Her choice, by the way. She was working for the Department of Mysteries translating runes for various studies - all of which I know nothing about, for the record - and one morning she woke up and decided she wanted to design witch’s formal wear.”

Hermione stared back at Draco with an incredulous frown, her brows furrowed. “You’re telling me that a girl I’ve known most of my life, went to school with, was a secretly one of the smartest students in our class?”

Draco nodded. “And besides that, I’m not giving you much of a choice because I know you want Harry to be Al’s godfather, and if Harry Potter is going to be our child’s godfather, then Pansy Parkinson will be his godmother. Realistically, we should have had this dealt with months ago.”

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but no words came out. After a moment of silence, she snapped back at him, “Fine. Fine! Pansy _Posy_ Parkinson can be Al’s godmother, dammit.”

Draco grinned back. “And if I have to be civil to Harry, give _Harry_ a chance, you have to do the same for Pans.”

He looked awfully proud of the particular shade of red he had managed to make Hermione turn.

.oOo.

Since Hermione’s house seemed to be the most neutral option, they had opted to have the baby shower there. To Hermione’s surprise, she was told not to plan a thing - traditionally in the magical community, baby showers were hosted and planned for by the godmother. Of course she had at first been sick over it, but when the day finally arrived, she found herself instead impressed.

When Pansy had shown up at nine o’clock on the dot - a promptness that got the two off on a good foot - she had arrived with with a flurry of caterers and decorators that transformed the small garden in the back into a wonderful, baby-centric area. Hermione had been, understandably, anxious about Pansy’s taste in decoration, but by the time that her crew of hired hands was done, she was surprised by just how tactful it all was. There was nothing preposterously extravagant, and she was thankful that the other woman had taken her simple preferences into consideration.

It was two hours before things settled down enough for them to talk, and by that point, all Pansy cared about was getting her hands on her godson.

“I never took you for a baby person, Pansy,” Hermione said as the dark-haired woman cooed at the little blonde infant.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong,” Pansy said with a laugh, “I do _not_ plan on doing this myself anytime soon - as long as the child’s not mine, I’m in love,” she admitted. “But this one - oh, with Draco’s looks and sharp tongue, and your sense and cleverness - he will be a force to reckon with,” she said fondly.

Hermione was taken aback by what she was certain was the closest to a compliment she had ever heard Pansy utter, but the moment was completely ruined by, “I mean, assuming he gets more than just the colour of Draco’s hair - if it was as blonde as his and big as yours, well, then I’d just feel sorry for the kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the break, folks! I needed a bit of a holiday with how crazy things had gotten at work, and at home.


	13. April 2012

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hermione and Draco have a little disagreement.

**April 2012**

Hermione rushed through the doors into the emergency ward of St Mungo’s, her hair wild around her face, falling out of the plastic clip she had tried to secure it back with. She spotted Draco’s shockingly blonde hair from the other end of the hall, racing towards him.

“Where is he?” she cried, her voice shrill.

“Hermione -” She felt Draco’s fingers wrapping around her arm, turning her to face him, but she craned her head around him, searching for her son. “Hermione, Merlin witch, listen to me - Alphard is fine!”

She snapped her eyes back to him. “Let me see him then.”

Draco led her into one of the private rooms off the hall, where an awake, alert, and very happy Alphard was playing with a toy dragon. After inspecting him carefully and once she was happy with what she could see, she turned back to Draco.

“What happened?”

“It was silly, really,” Draco assured her, “He just got a little bump on the head, a little scrape, is all. You know I’m shit at healing spells, I’d rather have someone properly trained do it.”

“But _how_?” Hermione pressed on.

“We were just riding along and he just lost his balance a little, fell off his broom and -”

“ _Fell_ off his _broom_?”

Hermione’s voice managed to raise in volume and pitch so instantaneously that Draco couldn’t do anything in response other than cringe. He took a moment before responding, dropping his voice as low as possible as though it would encourage her to do the same.

“Yeah - uh, we were just having a loop around the yard -”

“ _And what have I said about that broom?_ ” Hermione snapped, her voice shrill and shaking with anger. The sound made Alphard look up, his smile wavering, and Hermione turned to her son.

“It's alright, Al, mummy and daddy are just going to step into the hall and have a little chat.”

Hermione took Draco by the arm, all but dragging him from the room. Once they were in the hall, she pulled out her wand, casting a quick _muffliato_ in an attempt to keep their conversation private.

“It's a child’s broom, Hermione, his feet don't even leave the ground, and it doesn't move any faster than I can walk -”

“ _I. Don't. Care._ I told you I did not want him having a broom at this age, and you bought him one regardless -”

“I had a much faster broom at this age -”

“And when I asked you to not put him on it until he was older you do it anyway. How can I trust you if you're just going to go behind my back -”

“ _Albus_ has a faster broom -”

“ _Albus_ is a year older than Alphard. I swear to Merlin, Draco, if I can't trust you with my son -”

“ _Our son_!”

“Not if I can't trust you!”

“Trust has nothing to do with _blood_ , Hermione.” Draco’s voice was cold, excruciatingly calm, and level, yet there was a hint of venom to his words that made Hermione cringe.

“Draco, I'm sorry, I didn't mean - it's just - for this to work, we need to be able to _trust_ each other, and how can I do that if you're going to go behind my back every time I tell you I am uncomfortable with something?”

“We have been doing this for five years, Hermione. If I haven't proven to you that you can trust me before today, it's not going to happen.”

Hermione realised then, that through the past five years any time she and Draco had disagreed about anything, there had been a passionate argument for each of their cases. They would yell, sigh, growl, cry out in frustration, call each other names - but in that moment, the manner in which Draco carried himself scared her. Calm Draco, not yelling, screaming, angry Draco, scared her. His grey ice, usually storming and alive, were like ice as they bore down on her, and she shrunk away from him.

“Draco,” she said, dropping her own voice low, “ six years ago I hadn't seen you since we were in school. Ten years before that you were my childhood bully. I used to cry in my dorm room over the things you would say to me. If the last five years have proven anything, it's that I _do_ trust you - maybe far more than I should. Go home, Draco. I will deal with the rest of this. We each need some space to calm down. We will talk later.”

She began to walk away, and Draco stopped her, his fingers tight on her forearm. “Where is Lyra?”

“At Harry’s,” she snapped back, pulling her arm from his grip and crossing the hallway in three swift strides, closing the door to the hospital room behind her.


	14. September 2018

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lyra is a Mini-Me-Hermione, and Alphard and Albus wind her up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, yes, it has been far, far, FAR too long since I have been able to update this. I could give you the whole crazy explanation (which I honestly have a really have a hard time believing has actually happened in my life myself, nevermind what all you would think if I did tell,) but let's just leave it at this: my work, temporarily but not quite temporarily enough, was forced to affect far too much of my life. In the mean time, I want to thank any one who has stuck around long enough for the updates again, and thank you deeply for all your support and the like. As always, feel free to fine me on tumblr, persephone-andhades.

**September 2018**

Hermione was woken suddenly as a body collided with hers, forcing her conscious. “ _ Muuuummmy! _ ” came a muffled call from beneath the blankets that the body had buried itself in, and from behind her she could hear Draco’s groan.

“Go back to bed, love!” he said, pulling the blankets over his face.

“Daddy,” came Lyra’s voice, as she pushed herself onto her knees out of the blankets, her hands on her hips, “I  _ wasn’t  _ talking to  _ you. _ ”

Hermione really did try to best to bury the snicker she couldn’t stop into the pillow, but by the way Draco flicked at her shoulder she knew he had heard. Sighing, she pushed herself up from the bed, pulling her daughter into her arms.

“Lyra Helen, what have we told you about that attitude?” she asked, seriously. Lyra huffed back.

“ _ Drop it _ ,” she replied in a soft monotone. “But  _ muuuum _ , Al said that because he goes to school today, I won’t see him until  _ I  _ go. He said he has to stay there during holidays and all summer, and I  _ told  _ him that  _ Hogwart’s: A History  _ says that students are permitted to leave during Christmas and Easter holidays and that everyone goes home in the summer -”

“I can’t believe you gave her that book to read,” came Draco’s muffled groan from beneath the blanket. “I can’t believe she  _ can  _ read that book.”

“But he says that my edition is old and ever since -”

“You’re brother is a little shite,” came Draco’s clearer voice as he lifted the blankets away. 

“Draco!”

“Yes, but  _ Albus _ said -”

“Albus Potter is a little shite too.”

“ _ Draco! _ ”

Sighing, Draco pushed himself to sit up, looking at Hermione with amused eyes. He turned his attention to Lyra, who had now curled into her mother’s arms. “Lyra, love, the thing is Alphard and Albus are  _ boys.  _ And boys are mean - especially to girls they like, or little sisters.”

Lyra listened to what Draco said thoughtfully, “Is that why you were so mean to mummy when you were kids?” 

Draco frowned. “Who told you that?” It wasn’t that he would deny the fact that they had been - well, less than friendly with each other when they were younger, but he didn’t necessarily want his children knowing that.

“Mummy told me,” his daughter said with a sweet smile, cuddling up to said woman. “She told me you were mean, and she had to bop you right in the nose one time.”

Draco could feel his cheeks flushing. “‘ _ Bop me on the nose?’ _ Is  _ that _ what she told you? Bloody witch broke it!” he huffed, “Pomfrey had to re-break it and put me on Skele-gro  _ three times  _ to get it to set right.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have been so vain,” Hermione said smugly, and then when Draco flushed further, “You’re lucky you were a Slytherin. Scarlet’s really not your colour, my dear.”

With a glare in her direction, Draco turned to look at the clock that was on her bedside table. 

“Lyra, love, it’s four in the morning. Now is not the time to worry about such things, you should be  _ asleep _ .” Huffing, Lyra unwrapped herself from her mother’s arms, crawling out of the bed.

The pair sat in silence for a few moments, listening to make sure that they heard Lyra’s bedroom door shut down the hall. Once they had heard the quiet click, they began settling into bed, adjusting the blankets and pillows around themselves.

“I still can’t believe you gave her that damn book to read,” Draco said, sighing.

“Well the shite you were giving her wasn’t challenging enough! There is only so much a child can read about hopping pots and cackling stumps before they start to plateau.”

“‘Mione. She’s eight.”

“Exactly. When  _ I _ was eight my parents had already cultivated an academic interest in me; it is certainly one thing that I find frustrating as a witch and parent, having been raised in a muggle family. Muggle children go to school at such a younger age than in the magical community - and as a parent if I want to start building an education for them any earlier, well, I have to homeschool, because how can you send your child into a muggle school when at any given moment they could bust all the windows in the classroom, or set their desk on fire, or -”

Hermione was cut off mid-sentence as Draco pressed his lips against those of the ranting witch, her words trailing off into a groan of surprise. Draco pulled away slightly, smirking at her. “You know I love when you all flustered and passionate about anything, love, but as I told our daughter, four in the morning is not the time.” 

He gave her one last quick but hard kiss on the lips, before burying his nose into her hair. “You’ll deal with all that when you’re Minister for Magic. For now, it is four o’clock in the  _ fucking _ morning, and you’re taking your firstborn to meet the Hogwart’s Express in six hours.  _ Go to sleep. _ ” 

Hermione slowly closed her eyes, a small smile passing over her lips. As she started to drift into the realm of dreams, she could have sworn she heard Draco mumble against her hair, “Bloody Granger women. It’s a miracle I’ve not landed myself in the madhouse.” 


	15. November 2006 - Pt III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this part three of the first night Draco and Hermione spent together, Hermione finds herself surprised to accept his invitation.

**November 2006**

Hermione hated side-along apparition on a good day, never mind when she had consumed as much alcohol as she had that night. She would often compare it to her mother, who refused to be a passenger in any muggle vehicle for fear of motion sickness. Hermione's father had once told her he suspected it had less to do with actual motion sickness and more to do with her being a control freak.

Maybe the same thing could be said for Hermione.

Regardless, when she landed arm in arm with Draco on a side street of Diagon Alley, a wave of dizziness and nausea passed over her, making her sway on the spot. She felt Draco's hands grab her by the shoulders, steadying her.

"You alright there, Granger?"

Hermione nodded silently, and when he released her shoulders and took her arm into his again, she let him lead her out onto the main Alley.

As they approached an old, brick building, Hermione tried her hide her surprise at the state. For a few moments it was out of genuine concern; what was Draco Malfoy of all people doing in such a place? The brick was beginning to crumble in places, and when he tried to unlock the front door his key seemed to get stuck somewhere between locked and unlocked.

What surprised her more was the state of his actual flat. Once inside, Hermione stood in the doorway, stunned by the beautiful loft. The exposed brick, tall windows, and a large fireplace contrasted and complimented the modern furnishings. The whole space was entirely open, with vaulted ceilings, and a small spiral staircase that led to a small raised area where she could see a bed.

"Are you just going to stand there at the door?" Draco asked, smirking. When Hermione turned to him, he had already made his way into the area that would be deemed "kitchen" and was preparing two glasses. "Wine, or something a little stronger?" he asked.

"Stronger."

She made her way towards him, accepting a glass that was filled with what was clearly firewhisky. "Your flat is…"

"Disappointing?" he offered.

"Gorgeous," she corrected. A shyness she was unfamiliar with set in, and she invited herself into the sitting area, taking a seat on the steel grey couch. She felt the couch dip beside her and wasn't surprised to see Draco had joined her, arm spread out on the back of the couch as he kept a respectable distance from her.

"I have to confess something. I don't - I mean, I don't really know what I am doing here," she admitted, setting her glass down on the coffee table and turning her body more towards him.

"You're having a drink with me," he told her, tipping his glass towards her.

"Do you go out to Muggle bars often then?" she asked, rolling her eyes at his comment but refusing to acknowledge it more with a comment. He shrugged back at her.

"More than wizarding pubs. Haven't we already had this conversation?"

"Well then - do you enjoy working at Ministry?" Hermione blushed.

"Now I know we have had this conversation," chuckled Draco, and the colour in Hermione's cheeks deepened.

"Well, what would you prefer as the topic for discussion, then?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest, brow furrowed. She watched Draco as he slowly moved to set his own drink on the table, running a hand through his pale hair.

"In all honesty, Granger," he said, turning back to her and inching closer as he spoke, "I quite liked the idea of finding things to do rather than discuss."

When he closed the distance between them quite suddenly, Hermione found herself frozen somewhere between shocked and relieved. She felt Draco's hot breath mingling with hers, her hands vibrating in anticipation, and when their lips finally met, she could feel her body relax into his as he pulled her tightly against him.

Hermione Granger was not naive. She had known exactly what was on the itinerary for the night as soon as Draco had invited her to his flat, but a part of her - that nagging little voice in the back of her mind - had been intent on convincing her she was misreading the signs. But Merlin - was she glad that voice was wrong.

When Draco eventually broke the kiss, and Hermione was gasping for air, he chuckled - it was a sound that vibrated deep in his chest, and Hermione swore in her hyper-aware state she could feel it right to her bones.

Hermione could feel his hand brush over her shoulder and his hot breath against her skin as he whispered, "I always wondered what it would be like to see you like this…"

"You're terribly bold," she whispered back, opening her eyes and finding herself frozen beneath his icy gaze. "And aggravatingly paradoxical," she sighed as he leant in again, scraping his teeth along the length of her neck.

"In what way?"

"How can you be fire and ice, all at once?"

"They say not all dragons breathe fire," he told her, crashing his lips into hers once again.


	16. May 2010 - Pt II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hermione and Draco find themselves alone in Hermione's kitchen after the Battle of Hogwarts anniversary.

**May 2010**

"Trusting me can't be as easy as you make it seem," Draco whispered. Slowly, he turned his hand over in hers, and even more slowly - if that were at all possible - he slipped his fingers between hers. He let out a breath, relaxing when he realised she wasn't going to snap her hand away from him.

"It's not," she confirmed and quirked a lopsided smile at him when he took his attention away from their hands and his eyes met hers.

"It's the opposite with you," he admitted. "I never had to convince myself you were trustworthy, or that I shouldn't be scared of what was happening. I knew Al was going to be amazing - because there wasn't any chance he would be anything less that the best of each of us. If anything, I tried to convince myself I  _couldn't_ trust you as much as I did."

He ran his thumb over the soft skin that was between her thumb and forefinger, gently lifting her hand until it reached his bowed his head, gently brushing his lips against the palm of her hand. "I just need to make sure you know there has never been a single moment that I regret anything that has happened since the second I saw in that muggle pub."

Draco glanced over his shoulder, to the antique clock that hung on the wall to his left. "It's late, Granger. I should be going," he said as he started to pull himself away from, but stopped when he felt her small hand tighten around his wrist.

"Don't you dare," she scolded, her voice barely a shaky whisper. "Don't you dare  _Granger_  me now, Draco."

He felt her hand on his cheek then, forcing him to turn back to her. "You always do that. When we find ourselves on the brink of even a remotely serious conversation, you try your damnedest to put as much distance between us as you possibly can. You call me Granger because it is far less intimate than calling me Hermione - you fail to recall that we have been the most intimate that two people could possibly be together. I'm sick of it, Draco. Don't you dare do this now."

It was Hermione that initiated, grasping at him by the collar of his shirt and guiding his mouth to hers with startling precision. Utterly shocked, it took the feel of Hermione's lithe body arching against his to coax him into action. Once the haze surrounding his mind cleared, however, the sound that he drank from her mouth told him he had certainly responded appropriately.

It was Draco that broke the kiss, gasping for air as his large hands encircled the frame of her face, a thumb on her bottom lip and fingers curling into her hair.

"I forgot what that felt like," he muttered, watching as Hermione's eyes fluttered for a moment before slowly opening, pupils dilated and irises burning.

"What does it feel like to you?" she wondered aloud.

"Like I've been suffocating, and can finally breathe again," he murmured back, "Like I'm adrift, and you're the star that leads the path home."

And then they were kissing again.

.oOo.

It was late the next morning that Hermione woke, alone and with a headache that had her burying her head in the pillows. As she blindly reached, fumbling for her wand on the nightside table, she heard the clink of tiny bottles.

_Pain Potion._

She recognised her own delicate script on the bottle and smiled to herself as she also took the small slip of paper that was underneath.

 _Hope this helps_  was all it said, in Draco's harsh hand.

She tried, later in the day when Draco arrived back with Al, to hide the hurt that cut at her heart when Draco purposely kept his distance from her. She wanted to scream at the way he forced a smile and went stiff when she put a hand on his arm and made his excuses shortly thereafter. She tried to brave the threat of tears as she lay down with Al later that afternoon, patting down the boy's white-blonde hair that was so much like his father's.

"I need only a day," she said to herself, "Only a day, and I'll put this all away again."


	17. March 2016

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a little closure is given to Hermione and Draco.

**March 2016**

“Draco, I don't understand why you won't just take Al and Lyra for the night,” Hermione huffed into the fireplace. Draco’s face at the other end of the Floo-call was stone-cold, expressionless.

“I don’t understand why if you are supposedly  _ only _ going for drinks you need me to take him the  _ whole _ night,” he replied, his voice as equally cold. “And with that McLaggen arsehole, too.”

“Merlin, Draco, if it  _ was _ a date - like you’ve somehow gotten it in your head - why would it matter? Cormac is fit, if a little dull. Regardless, it’s not the first date I would have been on since Al has been born.”

“Yes, but none of the others were with  _ Cormac  _ sodding  _ McLaggen _ .”

“You don’t even know Cormac! When have you even interacted with him? Besides,  _ what does it matter? _ It’s not like you’ve been a bloody saint since Al was born.”

“I’ve not gone on any  _ dates _ .”

“No, because a parade of one night bimboes is  _ so _ much better.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed, his lips drawing tight. “Budge up,” he said finally, “I’m coming through.”

Hermione stepped away from the fireplace, straightening herself and wiping a bit of soot from her robes as she walked across the parlour to one of the sofas that occupied the space. When Draco finally came through the green flames, he bore brows furrowed in determination. In a few long strides he was across the room, reaching a hand out to Hermione, who took with with a slight frown of confusion. Draco pulled her from the sofa so she was standing once again, and before she even had a moment to react he had pulled her into him, his lips crashing down on hers.

Though surprised, Hermione reacted without delay, and on instinct. She brought her hands to his shoulders, then into his hair, and when she gasped as he nipped at her bottom lip, he took it as an invitation to deepen the kiss. He had one hand on the small of her back, keeping her body pressed against his, and the other was buried in her hair. 

When they finally,  _ finally _ pulled apart, Hermione gasped for air, Draco pressing his forehead against hers.

“That’s why,” he said finally, his voice low. Bringing the hand that been buried in hair around, he ran his thumb over her swollen lips, closing his eyes. “All the others… I could convince myself you could be happier with them. They were interesting, successful, reputations unmarred by the war. But McLaggen? Hermione, you said it yourself. He’s  _ dull _ . He’s a brute. There isn’t a chance you could be happier with him than you could be with me.”

They stood there in silence for a moment, Draco fighting his body’s reaction to shake from the overpowering anxiety that had suddenly taken over.

Suddenly, Hermione burst into tears.

“Hermione, love, what’s wrong?”

“I - I just - well, it’s all…” she stuttered, thoughts rushing through her mind faster than she could properly process anything. She tried to focus on what she wanted to say, but the words still came out broken. “Draco… you fool.”

The blonde cringed at her words, reluctantly starting to pull away from her. He was taken back to  _ that _ night ten years ago, the night that changed everything. He was reminded of how Hermione saying the  _ exact opposite _ had led to this very moment; “you’re not a fool” being the catalyst that had changed his life.

He felt Hermione’s small hand on his wrist as he pulled away from her, and their eyes met again. Her cheeks were still wet from the tears she had shed, and he fought the urge to reach up and wipe them away.

“You’re a fool of a man, Draco Malfoy,” she said again, this time clearer. “I’ve waited… I waited  _ years _ . I had all these feelings - and then every couple of years something happens, and you say the sweetest damnedest things, and then I am forced to just put them in a box, and hide it all away. I ignored the beating under the floorboards. I moved on with my life. And meanwhile here you’ve spent  _ ten years  _ telling yourself I would be better off without?  _ I will never be without you,  _ Draco, you’re the father of my children, by some cruel twist of fate!”

Draco knew he should feel ashamed, but instead, instinct kicked in and he became defensive. “Hermione, the things my family did to you, against people  _ like _ you - the names I called you, the spite I felt towards you - you deserve so much  _ more  _ than that. You deserve more than someone who's aunt carved a terrible word into your skin, who’s father is in Azkaban because he genuinely,  _ genuinely  _ believes you are nothing more than an ant under his shoe, and who carries a permanent reminder of the mistakes of his father. You deserve more than  _ me. _ ”

He didn’t react at first, when Hermione threw herself at him, her arms wrapping around his neck, her lips pressing against his, again. He could taste her salty tears as she kissed him, and without realising it, he wrapped his arms around her again, pulling her into him.

“But I don’t  _ want _ anyone except you,” she breathed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it.
> 
> I do apologise for the long and indecent wait for this chapter. I hadn't quite thought this story was done, but the more work I did, the more it felt forced and the more I felt like the final chapter I have been hoarding for months now was as far as I was going. Maybe someday in the future the muses will inspire me to expand on this a bit more, but as it stands, this is it. I would like to thank every one who has commented on this story or given me kudos on this story - you have all been great. Thank you so much for bearing with me on this journey and supporting this story. I appreciate each and every one of you!
> 
> As always, for more on me - questions, more of my work, etc - come and visit me on tumblr (which has changed) nyxphos.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> Unplanned started a drabble or two written for tumblr - since, it has grown to have a life of its own, and I cannot silence it. The story has grown into a multi-chapter piece that demands to be written. Please enjoy, read, review, even come visit me at my home at persephone-andhades.tumblr.com if you feel so inclined.


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